


Baby Hotline

by flowersonvenus



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Miya Atsumu, Bokuto Koutarou Being Bokuto Koutarou, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Miya Atsumu Swears, Miya Atsumu-centric, Oblivious Miya Atsumu, Oblivious Sakusa Kiyoomi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, Pro Volleyball Player Sakusa Kiyoomi, Rated because atsumu has a potty mouth, SakuAtsu, Sakusa Kiyoomi likes cooking and baking, Sakusa did not, Slow Burn, The Miya Twins went to college, abuse of brackets, gay sakusa kiyoomi, idiots to lovers, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29926173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersonvenus/pseuds/flowersonvenus
Summary: Miya Atsumu can appreciate beauty and art, therefore, can objectively say that Sakusa Kiyoomi is attractive. He’s seen him on multiple occasions during their high school years, in training camps and on both practice and official matches, and though they never outright interacted besides the formalities, maybe a simple greeting and sometimes a comment on a serve or set (and that one time that kept Atsumu up many nights, when he dug one of Sakusa’s serves and the guy looked at him like he wanted to devour him on the spot, which then became a routine and made Atsumu very hot and bothered but also terrified every time it happened), Atsumu never tried to deny the fact that he found Sakusa, simply put, hot. Crafted by the gods to fit Atsumu’s standards, if you will.Alternatively: Miya Atsumu likes people who can't express their emotions properly and he also likes pining for people he can't have, so Sakusa Kiyoomi is the perfect person for him.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	Baby Hotline

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to the recipes i found online and to the msby wiki page and also to grammarly and i hope u enjoy <3 title from the song baby hotline by jack stauber’s micropop

Miya Atsumu can appreciate beauty and art, therefore, can objectively say that Sakusa Kiyoomi is attractive. He’s seen him on multiple occasions during their high school years, in training camps and on both practice and official matches, and though they never outright interacted besides the formalities, maybe a simple greeting and sometimes a comment on a serve or set (and that one time that kept Atsumu up many nights, when he dug one of Sakusa’s serves and the guy looked at him like he wanted to devour him on the spot, which then became a routine and made Atsumu very hot and bothered but also terrified every time it happened), Atsumu never tried to deny the fact that he found Sakusa, simply put, hot. Crafted by the gods to fit Atsumu’s standards, if you will. His dark eyes and the small, barely-there smug smile that graced his features after a particularly good and frightening play, his athletic build and his snarky attitude and comments that Atsumu sporadically caught during games (to be fair, if Sakusa didn’t want anyone to eavesdrop on what he was saying, he really should keep his voice down) all added up to his ideal. As far as he could tell, Sakusa was calculating and intelligent, driven and compassionate, and, as it was mentioned beforehand, really fucking hot. So, imagine Atsumu’s surprise when after years of admiring from afar, he finally got to have a proper conversation with the guy and found out he was a total asshole. 

Like most things, it started with a new beginning. Atsumu was looking forward to his first practice with the Black Jackals. He was vaguely familiar with all the players, some he recognized from his high school career, like Bokuto Koutaro, Hinata Shoyo, and Sakusa Kiyoomi, of course, and some he did not know personally but could tell were all great players from the matches he’s seen occasionally (read: during the long hours he spent studying the team’s matches to find out where he fit in their dynamic and how he could help them out the most efficient way, because whatever anyone claimed, Atsumu was not a complete asshole), such as Meian Shugo or Oliver Barnes. Atsumu figured his position as a setter would come in handy for the team, because while the guy currently in that spot was incredible, their methods were very different, meaning Atsumu could bring fresh techniques to the table. The team seemed to work seamlessly, and while Atsumu worried about making it all go to shit, he was also confident in his and his teammates' abilities. There was no way Bokuto and Hinata were the types of people who did not like change and challenges. However, as soon as he got to practice, his ideas about these wonderful players were shattered to pieces. 

Bokuto Koutaro and Hinata Shoyo were running around shirtless in the tiny locker room, playing a game of tag, as far as Atsumu could tell, all the while Meian Shugo looked disappointed and very, very tired. Atsumu greeted the players to his best ability, though it was really hard to keep his composure while Bokuto and Hinata went in to hug him, and  _ how the hell were they already sweaty when practice hadn’t even started yet?  _ Atsumu respectfully declined their offer to engulf him in what they claimed was a welcome group hug, but offered a high five; Atsumu wanted to leave a good first impression, but there was nothing he hated more than hugging sweaty people. 

“Welcome to the team, Miya,” Meian said, finally snapping out of his disappointed state. “Sorry you had to encounter these guys at their prime dumbass time, but I genuinely hope you’ll enjoy our company.”

Atsumu sent a big grin to the captain, “Thank you, Meian, I’m glad to be here and it’s really nice to meet you.” 

Meian offered Atsumu a handshake, which he accepted and watched as Bokuto and Hinata stumbled out of the locker room, probably going to the court. 

“No need to rush getting to the gym, Miya, you’re early, despite what you might assume from the guys’ eagerness. Sakusa should be here soon, feel free to wait for him. As far as I know, you’ve known him since high school, so I hope his presence will bring you a little comfort, I know how hard it can be to adjust to a new team.” Meian’s words prompted Atsumu to bow his head in gratitude. 

“Thank you, Meian.” The other just smiled in reply, grabbed his water bottle and left the room. 

Atsumu had little time to wonder why Meian assumed that he and Sakusa knew each other well enough that he could make Atsumu comfortable when they never even had a proper conversation because a few seconds after the captain left, the door burst open, revealing Sakusa Kiyoomi, wearing his training gear already, with a bag slung over his shoulder. 

Now, Atsumu hadn’t actually met the guy since high school, and it is common knowledge that pictures and videos do not do anyone justice, so no one can blame Atsumu for taking a double-take at the man in front of him. Once again, he was reminded how painfully attractive Sakusa Kiyoomi was. He had grown since high school and the clothes he wore fit him much, much better, broad shoulders and big muscles filling them out seamlessly, and his thighs seemed to have gotten even more muscular, and Atsumu’s throat felt very dry, all of sudden. When Sakusa opened his mouth, the illusion was shattered.

“Miya. Hope you know I won’t be going easy on you, just because you’re new. I remember you were the person who managed to dig the highest number of my serves in high school, so you better keep up with them here too. Welcome to the team.”

And holy shit, Atsumu might have been over in his head imagining their reunion but he definitely didn’t think Sakusa would look at him for a millisecond, drop his bag and go straight to the court. Atsumu didn’t even have time to say hello or anything. What the fuck. Okay, to be fair, he did not expect a love confession and Sakusa to fall on his knees, begging for Atsumu to go on a date with him, but he at least anticipated that the other man would look at him for more than two seconds. The worst thing is, Atsumu had no idea why he was so bothered by this. Sakusa and he barely were acquaintances, let alone friends, so why did his blood boil at the thought of the guy not paying him any attention?

His thoughts continued to race throughout practice. Atsumu desperately tried not to be hyperfocused on Sakusa and to actually enjoy the fact that he was setting to  _ the  _ Hinata Shoyo, whose team beat his ass in high school, but it was hard when Sakusa practically begged for the ball during the makeshift match they had. Okay, maybe he didn’t beg and maybe the situation was kind of reversed, with Atsumu setting to Sakusa desperately, but the issue at hand still stood; Sakusa hit his sets with an incredible form every time, and only seemed like he wanted to kill him once when Atsumu used him as a decoy and dumped the ball across the net while studying Sakusa’s focused face. Yeah, if looks could kill, Atsumu would have died a very gruesome death on the spot. Sakusa was clearly not used to not getting the ball, and that fact infiltrated Atsumu’s brain and refused to leave. If he pulled this move during a match, would Sakusa glower at him the same way as he did then? Wouldn’t that make him the best decoy, the way he’s aching to hit the set? Atsumu could not for the life of him figure out why he gave setting the ball to Sakusa so much thought. 

Not at the moment of the set, no, but afterward. Atsumu always set the way he wanted to, only adjusting when it was absolutely necessary, not dwelling too much on the strength or height, no matter how much the Inarizaki players, especially Sunarin complained to him about them. Still, he found himself wanting to talk over the tosses with Sakusa; ask for his opinion on the power behind his sets, discuss the angle, talk about height and other technicalities. 

“Hey, Atsumu, are you okay?” Bokuto asked, snapping Atsumu out of his thoughts, and great, everyone was just looking at him. Atsumu felt like he was the new student in a class that had years to bond, a class that might have had a place for him if he played his cards right. 

He cleared his throat, looked at Bokuto (God, had he been staring at Sakusa all this time?), then nodded. “Just thinkin’ about why you couldn’t block my dump, Bokuto,” Atsumu teased, falling back into his usual cheery self. Bokuto barked out a laugh and told Atsumu he was like a sly fox with his special moves and that he was going to get it next time. Atsumu sent Bokuto a grin and tried his best to ignore the pair of deadly eyes burning into his side. The last thing he wanted was to be murdered by Sakusa’s glare. 

Later that night, after the tedious practice, filled with idle chatter with everyone on the team and non-stop setting to help the spikers adjust to his style, amongst other things, and after an awkward encounter in the bathroom (he accidentally walked in on Hinata taking a shower (the guy was so enthusiastic about Atsumu’s progress during practice, he had to cut Hinata off when he started rambling about how good it felt to hit his sets, reminding him that he was, in fact, butt naked and in the middle of a shower)) ended, Osamu lectured him about his vanity. 

“I’m just saying, ‘Tsumu, you can’t expect everyone to like you. I’m surprised so many people put up with you as it is, Sakusa does not seem like the type who would particularly enjoy your company.”

“See, ‘Samu,” Atsumu said, setting down his phone by the stove to properly stir the chicken curry he was making with the help of his brother, “It’s really not about vanity, I don’t think. Meian seems to respect me as a player, but I think he doesn’t particularly like me as a person, and I don’t have a problem with that. It’s- Sakusa- Ugh.”

“Glad you can express yourself properly,” Osamu snorted, “add a bit more pepper, if you want it to taste as mine does,” Atsumu did as his twin said, “so what you’re saying is that you are bothered by the fact that this one guy pays absolutely no attention to you?”

“Yes, exactly. I knew you’d understand.”

“I don’t. I just have common sense. You have a crush on him.”

Atsumu dropped the spoon he used to taste test the food into the pot. Him? Having a crush on Sakusa? Impossible. Yeah, he’s attractive but that doesn’t mean Atsumu wanted to date him or anything like that. He told Osamu just as much.

“Atsumu, who did you have a crush on up until this point?” 

Atsumu thought about it for a few seconds. He only had a handful of crushes in his life; a girl from elementary school who was very distant but seemed to reserve her pretty smiles for Atsumu, but they were both young kids and the girl moved away, so nothing happened there. He thought about his more recent crushes; Kita, for the first year of his high school career. He was sweet and understanding and had a strict routine he hated to break and for some reason, Atsumu found that he wanted to be part of that routine, but he never had the guts to confess and by their second year Kita found himself a nice girlfriend and that was that. Then, there was Kageyama Tobio, which was inexplicable and weird; Tobio was clueless and cute and Atsumu found himself thinking about him more than he probably should’ve outside of training camp. But alas, Tobio and him never even exchanged numbers or anything, because the guy was and still is a distant person, and oh. There was a pattern. The revelation didn’t go unnoticed by Osamu. “There we go. I think you get it now.”

“‘Samu,” Atsumu started, still deep in thought, “what the fuck went wrong in my life that I only want to be with people who are emotionally constipated?”

Osamu looked at his brother, faux sympathy clear in his eyes, “I wish I knew. Maybe I should have beaten you up more.”

“Even more than you did?” Atsumu exclaimed, pulled from his pondering, “Okay, so. There is a pattern, I admit, but… Sakusa is a capital A Asshole, why would I want to do anything with him?”

Osamu rolled his eyes. “Why did you want to do anything with Kageyama Tobio, whose mind was empty besides volleyball and Hinata Shoyo? Why did you want to do anything with Kita who was methodical and didn’t even spare you a second glance, ever? Why did you want to do anything with that one girl in elementary whose name I forgot, who did nothing but smile at you sometimes? Think about it, Atsumu,” a call of his name from the background interrupted Osamu, “I gotta go. Text me when you finally came to terms with your crush. Love ya.”

“Osamu! Are you at Sunarin’s place again? Hey-! Don’t you dare hang up on me-” Osamu, despite Atsumu’s protests, did hang up on him. Atsumu let out a sigh and turned back to his curry. It looked very delicious, but he knew better than to expect it to taste the same it would if his brother made it. With one last stir, he turned the stove off and decided to look for something to watch while the food was cooling. 

One of the benefits of signing to the Black Jackals was not only the fact that he got to play with some of the most renowned volleyball players of his time but also the luxurious living space the team was in possession of; a three-story apartment complex, close to their official gym, away from the busy parts of Osaka, with a private gym, rooms with en suites for every player, a fully equipped kitchen, a moderate-sized flat screen smart TV in the living room area and a queen-sized bed in the bedroom. Atsumu absolutely loved it. As he learned during practice, not everyone resided there (Meian lived with his fiancée, Barnes liked the busy city more than the quiet suburbs and Adriah inherited a house from his family, so he moved there when he signed with the team), and as it turned out, Inunaki and Hinata were both his neighbors, with Bokuto and Sakusa living upstairs. Bokuto swore he saw Atsumu move in, and he looked very disappointed when he learned that it was, in fact, not Atsumu, but a random moving guy with the same hair color as him. He made himself a promise that he’d invite Bokuto over as soon as he settled in properly, to make up for the misunderstanding. All in all, no one could blame Atsumu for taking full advantage of the apartment and its benefits; two of those being Netflix and a very comfortable couch. He hated to admit it, but he still hadn’t completely unpacked, but he was starving as soon as he got back from practice and a quick run to the convenience store around the corner, so he decided that taking his stuff out of the boxes could wait until the next day.

Ultimately, Atsumu decided on watching a shitty Netflix original reality show. He placed a big serving of the curry on a plate, grabbed a tray and utensils, and sat down on his couch, lightly kicking the box labeled “books” to make room for his legs. He pressed play on the remote and started digging in what he prepared. 

As he guessed, it tasted nothing like Osamu’s. It wasn’t too bad, of course, but it still made him miss his brother and his cooking a little. All throughout college, they lived together, but now that Atsumu is in Osaka and his brother is working on opening his first onigiri shop in Kobe, it’s very hard for them to meet up properly. Though, if anyone asked, he would definitely deny he missed Osamu. He had a reputation to uphold. The only person he’d share these thoughts with was his mother, but she had the night shift at her workplace, so he couldn’t talk to her until the next day. 

Just as the first big fight broke out in the show he was watching, someone knocked on his door. His initial thought was to call out to Osamu to get it, but he realized that he lived alone now, so no matter how hard he tried to open the door with his mind from the couch, it was no use. Sighing, he put the tray of food down on the living room table and shuffled to the door, pausing the TV show in the process.

Because of the high security, no one uninvited could get into the apartment complex, so Atsumu guessed it had to be one of his teammates. He checked over his appearance in the mirror next to his coat rack, and wiped the little curry stain off his lips with his sweater’s sleeves, then opened the door. 

To his surprise, it was neither Bokuto nor Hinata (Atsumu knew Inunaki was out, so he didn’t even expect him to stand at the door), but Sakusa Kiyoomi and Atsumu froze because he just opened the door to this very attractive man while wearing a stained sweater (not just from the curry, unfortunately, but Atsumu was at home, he could wear whatever the fuck he wanted, it’s not like he went out in it) and a pair of worn-out sweatpants. Atsumu noted that Sakusa was dressed much more appropriately than him; black jeans (which were supposed to be baggy, Atsumu guessed, but Sakusa’s incredible thighs filled them very well), a loose white t-shirt and simple black slippers. His hair was still wet and Atsumu came to the conclusion that Sakusa Kiyoomi had never looked better than at that moment. 

“Hey, Sakusa,” Atsumu greeted after a few seconds (which felt like hours). “What’s up?”

See, the question was necessary because what the hell was Sakusa Kiyoomi doing at his door at 7 PM on a Monday? Atsumu willed his thoughts to halt because no way Sakusa was there to confess his undying love to him. 

“Do you have some flour?” Sakusa questioned, not even bothering to utter a greeting. Atsumu hated that he did not want to punch him for his lack of manners. 

Atsumu had never been more grateful for his brother’s insistence that he eat home-cooked meals, at least once a week. “Yeah, I have some left over from my dinner, how much do you need?” 

“Not too much. About two cups,” Sakusa replied, holding up the two measuring mugs he had in his hands, which must have appeared out of thin air because Atsumu didn’t even notice them when he took in Sakusa’s appearance. 

“Come on in,” Atsumu said eventually, stepping aside to let the man in, falling in step behind him, trying not to let his widened eyes and overall shocked expression be seen by Sakusa. For a beat, he mentally questioned how Sakusa knew where his kitchen was, but then he remembered that all the flats in the building have the same layout. 

Getting to the kitchen, Sakusa finally looked around the apartment, and Atsumu wished the living room were not open-plan, because, though they barely knew each other, Atsumu was aware that Sakusa liked cleanliness. And his living room was anything but. As Atsumu rummaged around his cabinets to grab the floor, he took a moment to observe Sakusa, and he realized that the man’s gaze was indeed lingering on the boxes, as expected, so Atsumu spoke up. 

“Didn’t really have the time and energy to unpack yet.”

“Yeah, it took me a while to settle in, too,” Sakusa’s reply was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Atsumu let himself smile, handing the unopened bag of flour (Osamu instructed him to buy more than one, just in case) to Sakusa, who took it with a nod, then started to open it. 

Atsumu did not know what came over him, but he raised his hand to stop Sakusa (no touching, he knew how the man felt about that). “You can take the whole thing. I have more.” Sakusa did not need to know that ‘more’ meant a quarter of a bag and that he’d definitely had to buy more next time he was shopping. A conflicted expression overtook the man’s features, so Atsumu added; “I insist.”

After a few more moments of hesitation, Sakusa nodded again. “Thank you.”

Atsumu smiled at him and leaned back on the counter to take in the man’s features. Sakusa was in his apartment and even though it was still bare and without any personal touches, Atsumu thought he fit very well into the picture. He could see Sakusa come out of the bedroom in the mornings, preparing himself a coffee (did he even drink coffee?) and taking a seat on one of the plastic chairs on the small balcony overlooking a quiet park. He could see himself approach Sakusa from behind, planting a kiss on his head and sitting down next to him, linking their hands, letting them hang between them. 

Sakusa cleared his throat and Atsumu snapped out of his daydream. “Would you like a cup-”

“No.” And oh, right, Sakusa was an asshole, so that daydream would stay what it was at that moment; a daydream. Atsumu decided, then, that for all intents and purposes he did not have a crush on Sakusa, but rather on the image of Sakusa he had in his head. Real Sakusa would probably jump off the first-floor balcony before ever touching Atsumu and probably hated coffee. And cats, too, which Atsumu definitely did not add to the list to make himself get over whatever he was starting to feel. Sakusa welcomed him to the team, commented on his posture during a serve and nodded at him after a nice set, and that was it. And also, asked him for flour. None of these indicated that Sakusa felt anything but indifference towards Atsumu. Therefore, Atsumu should not feel anything but indifference also. He  _ felt  _ indifferent. He did. “But… Thank you.” Or maybe he didn’t. “I’ll get going now.” 

Atsumu was the one to nod, then, and started towards the door, because as it was previously established, he is not a complete asshole. He opened it for Sakusa and watched as the man crossed over the threshold. As he was about to close the door and get back to the reality show, Sakusa turned towards him and opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. Eventually, he did say something. “The water takes a few seconds to warm up, so don’t be surprised if it’s too cold at first.” 

Atsumu tried to hold back the confused grimace that threatened to spread across his face. “Thank you.”

Sakusa turned towards the stairs, probably to go back to home, when a person, Hinata, appeared in front of him. 

“Sakusa! Are you making pancakes again?” Again?

Atsumu watched as the two talked, leaning against the door, now more amused than confused. 

“Yes, Hinata.”

“Do you need help?”

“No, thank you, Hinata.”

“Will you bring us some?” 

That voice was new, but Atsumu recognized it instantly; Bokuto. 

“I-”

“Please, Sakusa! You know how much Koutaro and I like them! Pretty please with a cherry on top?” 

Sakusa looked exasperated, but if Atsumu didn’t know better, he would have said it was (mostly) faked. Hinata and Bokuto were much closer to Sakusa and Atsumu at that point, both looking at Sakusa with pleading eyes. 

“I’ll bring over some to Hinata’s place in about a half an hour. If you’re not there, you won’t get any.” Sakusa, for some reason, gave Atsumu a pointed look, and the setter had no idea why. 

With a final eyeroll, Sakusa left the three of them alone. Bokuto and Hinata immediately jumped into a conversation with Atsumu. 

“Miya,” Bokuto started, but Atsumu quickly corrected him and told Bokuto and Hinata to call him Atsumu; they were teammates, both men (and everyone else on the team, even Sakusa, though that would just never happen) could call him by his first name. “Tsum-Tsum- is it okay if I call you Tsum-Tsum? You can call me Koutaro,” Atsumu nodded, and Koutaro continued, with a brighter smile (Atsumu would probably never be able to figure out how he managed to smile with his body), “So, Tsum-Tsum, Sakusa’s pancakes are the best, you’re gonna love them. If you like pancakes, of course.”

Before Atsumu could say anything, Hinata spoke up. “Atsumu definitely looks like someone who likes pancakes. In a good way, of course!”

Atsumu grinned, and replied. “Hinata-”

“Shoyo.”

“Shoyo is right. I love pancakes. Though I didn’t peg Sakusa to be the type who enjoys baking or cooking.” Yeah, he didn’t peg him as such, because he hadn’t even thought about what Sakusa enjoyed doing besides volleyball and hating cats. But no one had to know that. 

“Yeah, he really likes it. Says it helps him relax, he was actually telling us about asking you-”

“Koutaro!” Shoyo interrupted, and Atsumu finally let his expressions reflect his feelings. No need to be careful around these guys. 

“What? He would have asked about it anyways!” Shoyo protested, but Koutaro continued, “Sakusa told us he will probably ask for some of your brother’s recipes. He heard he was opening a restaurant.”

Atsumu was stunned. Sakusa knew about Osamu opening the onigiri place? Did he plan ahead? Planned that he would ask Atsumu for recipes? Atsumu just couldn’t wrap his head around it. He tried to convey an image of Sakusa kicking a cat, or something, but alas, his brain refused to think about anything but Sakusa and him making onigiri, much to Atsumu’s dismay. 

Before Koutaro or Shoyo caught on that his silence was only partly prompted by surprise, he spoke. “Interesting.” Indeed, it was interesting, and probably something Atsumu would never forget about.

“But Sakusa told us not to tell you about it, so please, do not mention it to him,” Shoyo begged, grabbing Atsumu’s sleeve. 

“Of course I won’t, Shoyo,” Atsumu reassured with a small smile. He looked back towards his door. “If you don’t mind, I'll go and finish my dinner, but I will see you at Shoyo’s place in a bit?”

Shoyo and Koutaro both nodded excitedly and told him not to eat too much because he had to leave room for the pancakes. Atsumu promised them that he would only eat the amount of curry that is necessary, then bid them goodbye. 

Closing the door behind him and retreating to the sofa, Atsumu tried not to think about- about anything, really. He just wanted to focus on the shitty show and maybe think up a new outfit because there was no way he would roll up to Shoyo’s place (to see Sakusa) wearing that hideous sweater he had for the past four years.


End file.
